


Jealousy's A Bitch (And Unorthodox)

by La_Llorona



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Related, F/F, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pre-Slash, Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Llorona/pseuds/La_Llorona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel both want what they assume they can't have...</p>
<p>Internal dialogue and musings across the span of seasons 4-7, whilst Dean and Cas watch people come and go while they still stay the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy's A Bitch (And Unorthodox)

The one thing Castiel need to know about him is simple: he’s an archangel’s vessel.

The things he wishes to know about him are—odd.

He's not comfortable with them.

He's not comfortable with the way she kisses him. Castiel's sister. She wavers on his bottom lip. He supposes humans would call it “lingering.”

She’s familiar with his bottom lip, obviously.

He wants to tell Dean that she’s an abomination, but he already has.

He's told him about Sam as well. He watched Dean Winchester while he slept. Those are the few times he looks calm. When he’s sleeping. Perhaps that’s why he watches him.

Then again. He's always only waiting—so he can tell him what he needs to know.

He's watching them right now, because he's waiting for Anna to step forward. Away from their “lingering” good-bye. It isn’t worth your sorrow, Dean. That’s what he'd like to tell him. But Uriel’s at his shoulder. And they already suspect Castiel. They already think he's been displaying too much emotion.

Besides, this shack is no place for intimacy.

It’s cracking on the fringes.

It’s been under-appreciated for too long.

It’s worn-out.

It’s dead.

Dean is a righteous man. Or could be if he’d only believe.

Righteous men sleep on silver and gold.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know just how far she is beneath him.

Sam as well.

He never thanked Castiel for what he did.

...   

 

 

 

Last night on earth, gotta make plans

If he thinks he can sit here quietly, he’s got another thing comin’

This place is rank, and he’s a goddamned virgin

It’s not like Dean can let him die like that, no matter how much he hates the fucking angels

Of course, Cas isn’t that bad

Even if he’s always in Dean's face

A goddamned virgin?

How’s that even possible?

He's gotten kind of used to his face

And the rank place is twisting into this strip club—glorious strip club, God does he love these places

Hot chick, hot chick, hot chick

The red lights make every line on Cas’ face jut out, and his freaky blue eyes are popping

Hot chick, hot chick, hot chick—

Not hot enough though

This is the guy’s first time, and he has freaky blue eyes

He finds a real busty one and wave her over, introduce them, chat it up, go on take her, have a good time, he'll find somebody for himself, a real pretty one with freaky blue eyes

Kinda like Castiel's

She’s not hot enough for him, but she’s a pretty good first time, with her messy blonde sex hair

Kinda like Dean's

 

He's bored

Wonder how it went for Cas

What he thought about when he was up her fifty-dollar ass

 

... 

 

 

 

 

“Last night on earth.”

Castiel overhear him giving this speech to Jo Harvelle.

But instead of offering her mindless strippers, he offers her—himself.

She should feel grateful.

It’s quite difficult for Cas to get drunk.

She should feel grateful as she stands in this broken-down kitchen, even if it’s no place for intimacy.

She should say yes.

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The room was already tipping over after they heard the damn hellhounds

Every nerve in his body was already on the fritz, and then Meg—

That bitch—

She smacks lips with him like it’s the most casual thing in the whole

Goddamned world

Like he’s not the best thing that could ever happen to her little whore self

Dean can still hear the hellhounds

Hey, Satan, paid my dues

Why’s he grasping her like that?

Turning her around till she hits the vomit-streaked wall

There’re holes in it

Scabs on it

Peeling up

(How many scars can I take, Cas? Huh?)

His fingers are twisted in her darker-than-black hair

It’s like every goddamned porno he's ever seen

Fake

Actor

Actress

Let’s keep moving

Hellhounds

Stop

Please?

Her hand’s clasping the back of his neck, and her phony skin has no right

To graze his trench coat

The one he wears all the time

The one Dean can’t picture the guy without

Unless—

Their mouths are melded together

Open your eyes

(Sammy just wants to get out of here—not even Sammy)

The floor’s still tipping over

The walls are gonna waste us

(And how many scars can I really take?)

Come on

Get a move on

Finally

He's not gonna talk to him

Cause he doesn't have to choke up about this

 

 

 

... 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Cas can feel is his own—inadequacy.

He shouldn’t feel this way, because none of it is his fault. How many times did he warn Dean? How many chances did he give him?

The hospital’s completely sterile. He used to think that no one belongs in a place like this. But it seems to him, these days, that God created humans to be broken.

And that’s not right. He has to make it right.

He still believes that no one should belong in a place like this.

Perhaps she isn’t good enough for him. But she’s a good woman. A good mother to her child. Not even she belongs in a place like this. And perhaps he’ll forgive Cas if he—

No, that’s impossible.

I can do this for him.

No, that’s impossible.

I will do this for him.

He’s Castiel's friend. He’s his family. He’s been his reason for a lot of things.

He's watching her die on a hospital bed. Cas is watching him do the very thing God made him to do.

And that’s not right.

But Dean could be a righteous man if he’d only believe it. He could keep going on if he’d only have some faith in Cas.

This place is blank. Perhaps it’s for the sake of every doctor who has to perform an operation. Blankness is a talisman for detachment. If the doctors wear this talisman, they might not break every time one of these people dies.

And most people don’t even realize what happens after they die.

But Castiel does.

It turns out that heaven isn’t what the good Christians think it is.

And that’s not right.

He's still standing here as if he has no real ability to fix her.

And that’s not right.

Cas asked him to see it his way. He—begged—him to understand. Dean told him they're family, and then he turned his back on it.

It’s not that he doesn’t deserve Castiel's sympathy. It’s not that he hates him, since he never could. It’s just that he's—frustrated.

Frustrated because he won’t see it until after it’s finished. He won’t understand how Castiel's doing the right thing.

He never thanked Cas for all the times he sacrificed for him.

Trusted him.

Dean, trust me.

No, it’s impossible.

He never would.

But he can do this for him.

 

 

I’ll speak up now.

What should I say?

 

 

 

 

... 

 

 

 

 

 

Who the hell is she?

Everything’s melting

This house is too damned peppy

Stop melting, just burn it with fire

And God, does he have a thing for brunettes. She’s got perky hair, a perky ass, and a name like

Daphne

Her palm’s riding down the front of his weird, blue shirt

Since when does Cas wear sweaters?

Oh, yeah, Dean has his trench coat

If he doesn’t have his trench coat, it means Dean has his trench coat

If he doesn’t have his memories, it means Dean has his memories

Who does she think she—

He’s looking at her, but there’s nothing there

Come on, man, help me out

I’m right over here

Look at me

Look at you

Seriously?

 

 

Okay, I’ll say something now.

What the hell am I supposed to say?


End file.
